[Kura]: 673.Long Stories.Coughlin's School.Chapter 2

   "Morning, sunshine!"
   The loud voice broke into the peaceful sleep Cahal had been enjoying immensely like shattering glass. Within a few seconds he rolled out of the bed, hit the floor with a loud thump, and scrambled to his feet, still clutching the sheets he'd never gotten under. His eyes were wide with the shock and searching around frantically for what could have possibly yelled so suddenly. Was it danger? Was he about to be attacked? Maybe it was one of his father's moods?
   Justin grinned widely back at him, his eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. He stood with his hands on his hips on the other side of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet. He was already otherwise dressed in the uniform of the school, which consisted of a white collared shirt and midnight blue and silver tie as well as straight-legged black pants. Unusually, tucking in the shirt was optional as was wearing the coat. Not surprisingly, Justin was taking full advantage of these options.
   "You wanna be late, Mr. Sleepy-Head?" Justin cocked his head to the side, "You've got enough going against you as it is. You don't need to give them another reason to dislike you."
   "What?" Cahal asked with a frown, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up. He was already rummaging through his duffel bag for clothes, wondering why he hadn't put things away the night before.
   "You'll find out soon enough. We've got Reformation class first period." Justin replied casually as he discovered some socks under his bed and then tugged them on.
   "Wait, how'd you know that?" Cahal looked up from tugging on his school pants, one hand already pulling his old shirt off.
   "We all do. Well, some anyway." He said more seriously in reply as he laced on his shoes. "Now are you ready yet?"
   "Uhm...Yeah..." Cahal said absent-mindedly as he fixed his tie with clumsy fingers. He'd never worn one before and had only been shown once by a hurried and flustered admissions person.
   "No, no. You're doing it all wrong." Justin rolled his eyes and hurried around to him. "Here. It goes like this." With thin, deft fingers, the boy undid Cahal's mess and smoothly knotted it again at his throat. "If we had more time, I'd show you how. But I didn't want to wake you." He smiled a little, but it was hard to tell if it was really there because then he was grabbing his shoulder bag, latching onto Cahal's arm, and beginning to drag him out the door without Cahal even realizing what was going on. He just managed to snatch his own bag before they were moving swiftly towards their class.
   Other boys were out in the hallway as well, most of them goofing off or chatting leisurely. Cahal wondered to himself why they were in such a rush. The other boys barely glanced at their flight down the twisting halls and before long they were outside, in the courtyard.
   They crossed this so quickly that the trees and bushes seemed to blur before Cahal's eyes. But surely he was just imagining it. Justin was still latched on his arm, his thin fingers like a vice grip, forcing Cahal to keep up. He tried admirably, but the half-fae refused to slow, even around the tight corners of the halls in the next building they entered. Finally they came to a stop and the world stopped moving as Cahal got his bearings of where they'd ended up.
   It was a classroom, that much was clear. Though Cahal had never stepped foot in one before, he'd seen pictures in some books and this resembled them, even if on a less exciting scale. The seats were arranged in a curve that went up on a rise the further from the center you got. All of the seats on each of the three rows were behind long, curved tables. At the center of the room, where the seats were angled towards, was a long, solid-looking desk with papers and books strewn across the top. A long stretch of blackboard ran behind this, but it was devoid of writing or diagrams.
   The boys in the room were all talking quietly to each other, some sitting on the tables, others lounging in the chairs, and many just standing. At first glance, none of them seemed particularly unusual, but as Cahal looked closer he was surprised to see that some had unusually shaped ears (some similar to Justin's), some seemed to have oddly colored eyes or skin, and some even had tails of varying shapes and sizes. A teacher or other adult was nowhere to be seen.
   Justin was walking off now, his grip gone. Cahal still stuck close, nervous in front of so many people- even though there was only about twenty altogether. It felt as though they were all looking at him, though the hum of conversation continued uninterrupted. Though no one looked at him directly, Cahal had the feeling some in the room changed when Justin walked past, straightening up or giving the slightest of nods. But maybe this was just overactive imagination at work. They sat on the end of the second row, furthest from the door, with Justin next to a few other boys who greeted him quietly. Nothing in their actions seemed particularly friendly. Cahal stayed silent, though. He knew there was a high possibility that he just didn't know the rules and protocols in this society of strangers. Then a thought hit him with surprise. Justin hadn't smiled or said a word this entire time. In fact, he looked quite grim. Though Cahal had not known him long, from what he'd seen this was not normal behavior. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. What was going on?
   Suddenly a hush fell over the room. the door at the opposite end of the room opened slowly and in strode a tall, slightly stooped, thin man. He seemed undernourished, his face was so gaunt and pale, but his eyes were sharp and looked like hard grey rocks planted in his face. There wasn't an ounce of warmth in them, and neither was there any in his thin, pursed lips that gave him a permanently sour expression. His whole manner, from the stern glare he cast over the room to his slumped way of walking to his desk, radiated unpleasantness. Involuntarily Cahal found himself leaning back slightly.
   "Good morning, class." He said. His voice itself sounded sarcastic and mocking, and Cahal had the felling that was the way it always sounded. "I'm sure you all had...productive summers." It was obvious he despised them, just from these few words that were barely polite and bordered closer to insult. Cahal was not unused to poor treatment (ignorant townspeople can be troublesome), but somehow he found himself disappointed. He shouldn't have expected anything different, and yet he had anyway. Hope was a fickle thing.
   "Most of you are returning Seniors, so you know the drill." He intoned dryly, "But there are some who do not, and others who have simply forgotten." Was it just Cahal, or had the teacher (as he assumed this unpleasant person was) stared a moment at Justin, almost daring him to speak? Justin remained impassively grim, though, so it must have been his imagination playing tricks again.
   "I am Mr. Sullivan, though I prefer you call me Sir." He said coolly, standing in front of the blackboard. "This is Reformation class, though I would hope that your limited intelligences would at least have told you that much." His lips curled into a sneer and Cahal felt Justin tense at his side. "In this class you will learn to be subservient and humble to those who are your superiors, to know your true and proper place in outside society, and to become as near to decent, respectable humans as it is possible for you to become." His contempt shown through, even though his voice had taken on the bored tone of someone who had repeated those words far too many times. When he had said the word 'you,' it was almost like an insult. Now Cahal was tense. This wasn't right. This person was insulting a room full of people who had done nothing wrong. He might be unused to society's rules, but he instinctively knew this was not how it was supposed to be.
   "Those of you who are new here probably think you're the best of the best, unusual, maybe even special." The sneer returned. He almost seemed to be enjoying himself now. "I'm sure you've already decided that you're going to do your best to be at the top of the class, or maybe make friends with other human boys." He paused to look around the room, with his cold grey eyes glinting in the light of the fluorescent lights. "If you had made any of these presumptions, then you are wrong." A shuffle went throughout the room, as of shifting bodies in silent outrage, but a glare from Mr. Sullivan silenced it immediately.
   "The only reason you boys are in here is because of your own insistence on existing. Each and every one of you was a mistake and therefore a blemish on civilization. You are blasphemies against the gods that be and only by our generous natures have we chosen to let you live in this state of squalor. However, in payment for our kindness, you must never attempt to rise above your superiors in the world- those such as myself and the other members of your level. We are pure, untarnished, and favored by the gods, and so it is our job- and a most thankless job it is- to be custodians of your miserable lives. Success and notoriety is not for the likes of you. You are to go through this world always below the pure, superior humans, doing what they command with humbleness, and then exit this world quietly, thankful to leave before your being could further tarnish its surface.
   "And so it is that you come to be at Coughlin's School. Our founder, the Reverend Coughlin, was so alarmed by the existence of those such as yourselves that he created this school to help. Its purpose is to train you in your proper place in society, while also- amazingly generous, this- giving you an excellent education in the academic and artistic subjects alongside those that will, in only a year, become your true superiors in the outside world. It is a gift that Father Coughlin so thoughtfully created this school to reform your naturally destructive behaviors into productivity under all of us. You should feel most privileged."
   Everything Mr. Sullivan had said was spoken so matter-of-factly that Cahal wondered if perhaps he had misheard. Surely this man was not really telling all of these boys that they were worthless but for servitude?
   "Those of you who are returning have hopefully not forgotten the lessons learned in the previous years of your stay here. I know it must be so difficult for you to keep these things in your useless little memories." He smirked and moved to sit behind his desk. "But you are to help the few new seniors catch up on the rules so they don't make any...Unfortunate mistakes."
   A shiver ran down Cahal's spine. He didn't like the sound of that. Fervently, he glanced to Justin, hoping for some sort of reassurance that things weren't really as horrible as they seemed. Justin met his eyes, but there was no calming smile or wink. Instead there was the slightest shake of the head and pursed lips, as if to say 'not now.' This certainly didn't help Cahal's rising panic. He looked carefully at what other boys he could see to gauge their reactions. Most looked like Justin, grim and unhappy, but silent. A few looked more like Cahal felt, wide-eyed in surprise at what they were hearing, and then there were some who seemed perfectly calm and serene, as if in complete acceptance. These disturbed Cahal even more than Justin had.
   Then, slowly, a hand was raised. Every eye in the room turned to it in disbelief, including Mr. Sullivan's. When Cahal peered around to it, he discovered the owner was a stoutish boy with strange dark markings on his hands, like tattoos or birthmarks.
   "Sir..." He started in a hesitant voice, "But if we choose not to be servants...What are the consequences?"
   The entire room seemed to tense, holding their breath and watching for Mr. Sullivan's reaction.
   He smiled. Of course, it wasn't a pleasant smile and really it seemed more like he was baring his teeth at the portly boy. "What is your name?" he asked quietly, still smiling in that horrible way.
   "P-persius, sir. Persius Glenn." He stammered. Persius then proceeded to sink back in his chair, obviously wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.
   "Well, Persius. You shall stay after class and I will be more than happy to...explain to you those consequences." Mr. Sullivan answered, still smiling. He was enjoying this immensely and didn't even stop the rustle of distressed whispers that went around the room.
   "He's a new student. It's a good thing you're so quiet, eh?" Cahal turned in surprise to see that Justin was talking to him again. He still wasn't smiling, but at least he wasn't ignoring him.
   "What will happen to him?" Cahal whispered, leaning towards him slightly.
   "Nothing good. You don't want to know. But at least this will be a lesson to you. Better him than you, Cahal." Justin replied quietly, keeping his eyes locked on Mr. Sullivan in case he decided to have a flare of tempera at all the chatter. But the unpleasant teacher only sat and watched, his grey eyes glinting above his manic smile. "Best to keep quiet." Justin murmured, half to himself.
   "Quiet, class." Mr. Sullivan finally spoke and immediately silence invaded the room. "Stay silent for the rest of the period. Work will begin tomorrow."
   A pin could have dropped for the twenty minutes remaining. Cahal didn't dare a glance to Justin, or any other boy in the room, for that matter. He simply sat, imagining what horrors could be awaiting Persius Glenn after class. Unfortunately, Cahal had a very creative mind, and when his thoughts turned to something particularly ghastly, he shivered.
   Then, blessedly, the bell rang. Cahal nearly jumped to his feet, but Justin lay a restraining hand on his arm. "Wait. Go slow." He said quietly, almost too soft to hear. So Cahal eased slowly from his chair instead. Everyone else around the room was doing the same (except for Persius, who sat silently, as pale as a ghost) and then carefully making their way to the door. Mr. Sullivan watched the proceedings critically, but said nothing as they slowly filed out. Cahal followed close to Justin and gave the teacher's desk a wide berth. He kept his eyes straight ahead at his friend's back, neither looking at the doomed Persius or at the scowling professor.
   Finally, they were outside the Reformation room. A switch seemed to have been turned on as suddenly the hall was filled with the voices of the freed boys. Justin turned around to grin at Cahal, instantly becoming the familiar person he'd met the night before.
   "So you've survived your first Reformation class. Only a million more to go." He said, still grinning, "I'll explain some things later, don't worry. But for right now we'd best get a move on. What's your next class?"
   "English." Cahal replied. He'd memorized his schedule as soon as he'd seen it.
   "Damn, just missed you. I've got that second. My first's history." He rolled his eyes, "Hopefully I'll stay awake. Though it's never happened before." He smirked and shifted his bag more securely on his shoulder, "Until later, then, Sunshine." He backed a few steps, waving, then was off at a fast pace, diving and twisting to avoid other inhabitants of the halls like a fish.
   "Bye..." Cahal half-waved back, but he couldn't tell if he was heard or not.
   With considerably more difficulty, Cahal began to move off to his English class. Luckily the tour had been only yesterday, so he could still remember where everything was. Alone now, Cahal ducked and dodged around the other boys, soon slipping by smoothly as if he wasn't there at all.